Criminal
by Moment For Life
Summary: Rose meets a young waiter after a party. Re-write of a very old story of mine. One-shot.


Criminal.

London,

December 2018.

Whilst the chatter of the dinner had died down, scraping of plates could still be heard as party goers finished up. Others took their place on the dancefloor as a fine orchestra played music of the older years. It felt like something out of a Victorian novel of upper-class society. Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings with the work of celebrated artists adorning the walls. Expensive champagne and wines were passed about by waiters weaving in and out of people stood chattering. In the middle of it all, Rose Dewitt Bukater stood alone.

The dress which Rose had chosen to wear this evening was one she had bought herself whilst shopping on Bond Street. It was all black in colour, to the floor, with thin straps and hugged every curve of her body. It was just what she wanted; simple and elegant. She wore just diamond studs in her ears and no other jewellery aside from her engagement ring. She wore black stilettos, quite high and unlike her usual taste in footwear, but she had fallen in love with them at first sight, although they had a high price tag. Her hair was loose in its natural state around her shoulders and fell down to just passed her waist. She clutched a single clutch bag in her left hand and the last of the Moet in her right.

People passed her; nodding small hellos, some she knew and others she didn't. She had been to these sorts of events before and mostly she found it was an excuse for women to show off their finest clothes and jewellery to others. Wealth seemed to be the friend amongst all of these people. All they seemed eager to find out of was the gossip, who dressed the finest, who owned the most land, who had married the richest man. Her fiancé, Caledon Hockley, was one of the world's best-known lawyers. He had recently travelled around Europe with Rose as an engagement present, and now they were spending the late summer in London. It had been a romantic gesture, one which at first, she was excited about. How it had changed.

Gentle music played by the band filled the air, and Rose craned her neck, looking around the room for something; anything to amuse her. Ruth, her mother, could be seen speaking with some notable faces on the other side of the room, she too, was dressed exquisitely in a floor length gold gleaming gown, with her red hair piled into a perfected coiffed bun. That was the thing about her Mother, she was the social belle of the ball and always had been. She could make conversation with any person who would stop to chatter and by the end of it she would have torn a scandalous gossip snippet out of them to pass along to her friends. On one hand, Rose had wished to be more like her family; they were well bred and for over a hundred years had ran a well-known paper in her hometown but since her father's death, money had been tight and so the paper had been sold to an inside buyer; along with her hand in marriage.

After a minute or two, Cal, her fiancé, came beside her, without an acknowledgement he simply placed his hand on the small of her back and shifted her forward just a few steps, steering her with just the point of his finger, where they were stopped by a famous actress who Cal had represented in court at point. She was tall, blonde, tan and beautiful. Cal removed his hand from the small of Rose's back and engaged in chatter with the actress. Caledon Hockley was a handsome man; black hair and dark eyes. He was almost James Bond looking. Women swooned over his charm and that was exactly what had happened to Rose just six months before. It had just taken her a little while to wake up to his selfish need to be with other women beside her. Yet, he felt the need to control each aspect of her life. And so, she played little Miss Socialite until she could retire to her room with a book to lose herself within until she fell asleep in a cloud of loneliness.

Cal's words were lost as she became entranced in her own world, as she always did when she wasn't included in a conversation or introduced to the prominent members of society. She turned around, glancing to the bar. How badly she wanted to order every drink on the menu and down them all one by one, but she knew she would be allowed no more than a glass or two of wine. Most people her age would be falling out of nightclubs or at the London Eye. She could even maybe sneak away and steal a black cab to a museum where she could become lost in an artist's work for hours on end.

A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and Rose looked as it twinkled beautifully, almost taking her breath away. She clung to her clutch bag, which she held directly in front of her stomach, feeling self-conscious compared to the other, much slimmer beauties here. Maybe wearing clingy satin wasn't such a good idea.

"Why don't you just try smiling, just once?" A voice startled her and her eyes darted around to meet Cal's. They were dark and untrusting, his face like thunder. "It's embarrassing, Rose." His eyes stared directly into hers. "You look like an utter fool."

Immediately, Rose felt tears prick her eyes. She turned her blushing face to the crowd of people Cal had been making small talk with and saw all pairs of eyes on her; judging and some grinning. She ignored their whispers as she swallowed back a lump in her throat.

"Why don't we see a smile on that pretty little face of yours?"

Rose turned away, feeling his breath tickling her cheek. She could remember the evening before. The stench of whiskey on his breathe and his half-clothed body had been enough to make Rose move away from him, but her attempts to escape were useless. When they had reached their hotel room, Cal had ordered Rose to undress for bed, and when she hadn't done as she was told, he had raised his hand to her and cut her lip. It was the first time Cal had ever laid hands on her but she feared it wouldn't be the last. In actual fact, she was surprised that he hadn't done it before now. Why was he doing this—to publicly humiliate her? Rose could feel her own heartbeat in her ears. She had never felt so much fear. She just wanted a big hole to swallow her up and take her away from this hell.

"Hey, you look at me when I'm talking to you." Cal grabbed her face in his right hand, forcing her to look him directly in the eye. Her cheeks were grasped within his palm. He saw the fear and seemed to thrive on it, to feed from it. "Don't disrespect me." Rose felt as though she was slowly being suffocated. She could feel his fingers burning her face and knew what would come later on. The whole room seemed to whirl around and, quickly, without even thinking, Rose turned from Cal, escaping his grip. That was it. How could she take much more?

The bathroom signs shined elegantly right in front of her and she darted towards them. Everything that society had ever taught her had stopped her from just sprinting out of the room and never returning. She almost fell through the door after seeing the 'Ladies' sign. She stumbled as she struggled to catch her breath. The bathrooms were beautiful with ceiling to floor mirrors greeting her as soon as she entered.

After seeing her reflection in the large oak mirror; she felt tears pricks her eyes. Here she was, faced with herself. She despised her life, she despised herself, and most of all, she despised Caledon Hockley. Taking a deep breath, she felt the tightness of her dress and put her hand over her stomach. She felt as though she was slowly being suffocated. Suddenly, she began to choke. It felt as though her airways had closed and her lungs had stopped working. Throwing her clutch onto the side of the sink, she coughed loudly, her chokes echoing around the toilets. She thought she was going to vomit, but instead all she could do was dry heave. She lifted her head from the sink and saw her pale face, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered; her cut hid from the outside world, covered with professionally applied makeup by a celebrity beauty expert who had been called upon at a moment's notice to cater to a famous lawyer's girl.

Quickly, she wiped away her tears. She remembered a time when she had been confident. Now she was reduced to this...lonely and frightened. Now she was a shadow of her former self. She shook her head as she tried to steady her breathing. She could see her hands shaking. For a few seconds, her ears rang. She could hear her own voice screaming at her to get out of the relationship and stand up to Cal. She didn't deserve this. No one did.

The harsh light left her examining her own reflection. She brushed her fingers beneath her eyes, wiping away any traces of tears and she straightened her back, pushing out her chest and tucking in her tummy. Something overcame her, something which gave her strength and the feeling of being powerful for just those few seconds. Opening her clutch, she found the red lipstick that she had purchased that morning. She applied it quickly and perfectly before pressing her lips together and fastening her purse shut. Taking one last look at her reflection, she felt satisfied for the first time in a long time. She liked what she saw. No one would steal that from her.

She walked to the exit, her heels clacking on the glittered tile floor. The crowds were loud as she found her way back to the party. She noted that eyes were on her as soon as she left the bathroom; not felt her mood lifted. They weren't watching her, knowing of her fiancé's temper just a few minutes ago, they watched her body as she walked; confident and straight backed. Not a huddled over little girl. She looked around the room to find Cal or her mother.

Sure enough, she found her fiancé chatting with a tall blonde; another actress. She played with his tie and his face was just inches away from hers. He had publicly humiliated her, once. Now, he couldn't keep his hands off to himself. Inwardly, she should be jealous, or feel small and displeased. Instead, she felt nothing at all. She even found she despised him.

Without even thinking, she strutted towards them, neither of them noticing her presence. Cal's hand was around the blonde's shoulder, inches away from the top of her very large breasts.

Rose cleared her throat as soon as she stood beside them both. ''Darling, if you have quite finished feeling up all of the whores here this evening, I am ready to leave.''

Immediately, the blonde pulled away from Cal. Her dark eyes narrowed at Rose and then realisation crossed her face. Rose glanced between the two guilty faces. She wouldn't crumble for Cal – not this time. She looked right back at him, knowing full well he was seething, embarrassed and angry at her comments.

"I'm so sorry, please excuse us." Cal apologised to the blonde; calmly.

He placed his hand at Rose's waist to steer her towards the exit but Rose's twirled around, resisting his control of her. ''I will be leaving alone.'' Rose pressed her lips together. ''Please, stay with your mistresses.''

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Cal gripped her hand so tightly that she almost screamed and pulled her towards the exit with such a force that she almost tripped over her own feet. She tried to free herself from his grasp, but she couldn't. He dragged her outside into the cold December air. She shuddered, not from the cold, but from the fear she told herself she wouldn't feel any longer. She struggled to stand as he almost pulled her to the ground with his forceful vice grip.

"How dare you disrespect me like that?"

Rose tried to utter a few words, but nothing could fall from her mouth. Her teeth chattered together without control.

"Who do you think you are? Who on earth do you think you're talking to?" His eyes were darker, fiercer.

Before Rose knew it, the flat of his hand connected with her face and she almost fell to the ground. She stumbled back on her heel, steadying herself with her hands as she realised that she had dropped her bag on the way out here. An inward sob worked up her chest but she choked it back, refusing to cry, not for him; no more. She was numb. There was no pain. Not anymore. She couldn't even feel the cold. She was sure she had seen a flicker of snow in the air.

Her eyes travelled, for a moment to the waiter who had just exited the back door of the venue and was putting trash in the large bin. He was so normal; a young man at work. She shook her head. What was wrong with her? She felt nothing; all she could concentrate on was the waiter. As if in slow motion, Cal ranted in front of her face, waving his arms around violently, but it was almost as though she had muted his voice. The waiter's head turned, Rose knew that he had heard Cal's rants. Flicking between Cal and the waiter, she licked her lips as she stumbled back against the brick wall which was behind her. She was dizzy for just a moment. She blinked to focus herself on the waiter once more. He stood at the bin, with a deep frown buried between his eyes. His hair was long and a sandy blond, she guessed from the light shining in the street, but the one thing she did see was how blue his eyes were when they connected with hers.

"Hey!" She heard him call. She blinked a few more times before everything went back to normal. Cal hadn't heard the waiter call out to him over the top of his own outburst. He came to her, fists clenched and she took a sharp intake of breath to prepare for the next strike. She didn't want to cower, not anymore.

''You are such a-''

She cowered with clenched shut eyes, against the wall, protecting herself from the punch that never came.

She heard him groan. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw that the waiter had a hold of Cal. He punched his stomach, causing Cal to fall back against the wall, but it didn't stop him from fighting back. Cal would never stop. Rose jumped back, out of the way. Her heels causing her to stumble and she clung to herself against the cold.

The waiter punched Cal in the face once more before he fell to the ground, groaning in pain. Rose felt her heart beat quickly, but her bleary eyes cleared, slowly. He lay, clutching his ribs on the cold and wet floor. Her breathing quickened, causing her to feel as though she would hyperventilate.

''Who is this guy?''

Rose glanced up through her tear lined eyes to see the waiter stood beside her. He wore a crisp white shirt and black pants—his uniform, she assumed, but over the top, he wore a leather jacket.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice strong. It made Rose feel safe for some reason as she looked even further into his eyes.

"Yeah," she managed, her teeth chattering. ''He is my fiancé.''

She was utterly floored by the turn of events. She looked down at Cal, laid out on the London street. The waiter removed his apron from around his waist and threw it on top of Cal.

''Piece of shit.''

Rose clutched her stomach to steady her breathing. She noticed that beside the waiter was a motorcycle. It was silver and even though she didn't have a clue about such vehicles, she knew it would be a thrill to ride on. He climbed onto his motorbike and was about to put his helmet on when Rose realised she was still watching him.

She looked down at Cal's body lying in the street. She felt no emotion whatsoever. He would regain consciousness soon and she didn't plan to be around to see him. She immediately removed her engagement ring from her finger and threw it down onto the pavement next to him.

''You can keep that.''

She turned to the waiter. Beneath the light of the moon and dim streetlamps, he was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. He cocked his head to one side.

''You coming?''

Her mouth fell open in an attempt to respond but she couldn't. On the way outside, she had dropped her clutch and her Mother was inside chattering to the others without a slight clue. He could be anybody but – he had saved her. He made her feel safe and she had no idea who he was. She felt a slight sting of pain in her cheek as her teeth chattered.

Cal began to stir, breaking Rose's thoughts.

She made an on the spot decision to go with the waiter, whoever he was.

He could be a criminal.

''Yes.''

''Hurry.''

The waiter handed her a spare helmet and she fastened it underneath her chin. Their eyes met and he cocked his head to one side, indicating to her to climb on. She struggled to with her dress but as he took both of her hands in his to steady her, she calmed but her breathing accelerated.

''I'm Jack. Jack Dawson.''

''Rose Dewitt Bukater.''

He laughed and it was boyish, piercing the silent night air.

''I think you'll have to write that down for me.''

He straddled the motorcycle and her arms came up around his chest.

''Let's go.''


End file.
